Vigilant of Stendarr

"Stendarr's Light purify you of your ills." His blessings come true as my hands begin to glow like flickering flames. For a moment I selfishly I remain steady, feeling the gentle warmth of his nearness, but the feverish man laying in front of me groans in his nightmarish entrapment, reminding me of my Oath and Duty. My soft fingers touch the rough leather of his armor, that was enough to feel his heart beat and release Stendarr's power upon him.

A hunting accident, an arrow wound gone bad, or so I was told. Unrelated to the Daedric rumors that drew us here, or so my partners said. I wasn't so sure. Perhaps because I am young and naive, my imagination still fresh from the horror tales they tell us at the Vigil. I believe the Daedra aren't only powerful and evil, but also cunning and secretive. Was it really only drink, or did Sanguine, prince of hedonism spiked his drink? Was it bad blood between them, or did Boethia the deceiver trick them?

He did have an arrow wound. Close to his knees, a little bit higher and his hunting days would be over. The flesh around the wound smelled rotten. I could heal this wound, just like I healed his fever, but doing so would close the proofs I needed to examine. Flesh was torn, he was very fortunate it missed the major blood vessels, or he would have bled to ****. Wicked, as expected from a crude hunter's arrow. But where was the sign of supernatural malevolence that I was looking for?

"Are you an Angel?" his words startle me, and I look towards his face. He was younger than I first assumed, strong features behind that poorly kept beard. Dirty Blonde, as was so common among the Nords. My kinsman.

"No, just a Follower of Stendarr. I am Vigilant Sana." He tries to raise, but I effortlessly keep him down by merely putting a hand on his chest. He was still weak. "Your fever is gone, but your wound is still here. I will close it now."

Once more I feel the glow, and the warmth, and as I touch his leg the gruesome fest becomes whole again. Stendarr, in his kindness, doesn't even leave a scar behind.

"I am done" I say, but he was already moving his legs. Not to stand up, but to...

I smile. It was common enough that the bountiful life energy had this effect on men. He was sporting a sizable hard on, and was obviously embarrassed to be sporting one in front of an acolyte. He would probably need to relieve himself after I am gone.